Now, and Forevermore
by Tahlkative
Summary: [Now formatted into chapters] A re-imagining of (really, an alternate ending for! ) the final episode ("Wedding Day?") of the TV series "The Ghost & Mrs. Muir." (The introductory materials were written for friends who didn't know/follow the show. :) I hope that others who loved this series will enjoy the various references and allusions to previous episodes.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

**A Note to the Reader**

•

The following is a re-imagining of what might have happened after the culminating scene of the final episode ("Wedding Day?") of the TV series "The Ghost & Mrs. Muir." A list of the characters and a plot summary of this episode appear below, for those who would like a little backstory. Those familiar with the series will recognize in my opening paragraphs the ending of that last episode, in which Carolyn Muir's parents have just renewed their wedding vows. What then follows is not a real-time narrative, but a series of vignettes; one of the show's greatest charms, to my mind, is that it _sparked_ the imagination...while also leaving something _to_ the imagination. It is in that spirit that I have written. I hope that others who loved this series for its nuanced characters and subtly developed relationships will enjoy the various references and allusions to previous episodes, as well as my continuation of the story.

•

_To the memory of a truly gifted cast of actors, in grateful thanks for the joy they brought us all—_

NPW

* * *

**Cast of Characters**

•

**Carolyn Muir**—A young widow, a writer by trade, who moves herself and her children from Philadelphia to Schooner Bay, on the Maine coast, in 1968, to make a fresh start. She rents Gull Cottage sight unseen, and finds herself drawn to the house even though she realizes almost immediately that it is haunted.

**Captain Daniel Gregg**—The original owner of Gull Cottage, whose portrait still hangs above the fireplace—and whose spirit still inhabits the house. The Captain died in 1869 in a mundane household accident. Believing he could never settle down, he intended his house to become a home for retired seamen, and has succeeded in scaring people away from it...until the Muirs arrive. Adults cannot see the Captain unless he wishes them to.

**Candy Muir**—Carolyn's daughter. Older than her brother, Candy does not believe in Captain Gregg at first; as time passes, however, she becomes able to see him.

**Jonathan Muir**—Carolyn's younger child, who is able to see and hear Captain Gregg from the first time the family steps foot in Gull Cottage. Because Jonathan is not afraid of the Captain, the two establish a strong bond.

**Martha Grant**—Mrs. Muir's housekeeper, who comes to Schooner Bay with the family. For almost two years, Martha senses but does not see the Captain. When, alone and feeling unappreciated, she plans to leave the Muirs, however, the Captain appears to her rather than let her leave without realizing how dear she is to them all, and she stays on.

**Claymore Gregg**—The real estate agent who rents Gull Cottage to Mrs. Muir, Claymore claims to be a great-grand-nephew of Captain Gregg, and his last living relative—a claim the Captain vehemently denies. By turns miserly, cowardly, laughable, and (occasionally) sweet, Claymore wears many hats in the small town of Schooner Bay.

* * *

**Plot Summary**

•

Mrs. Muir meets the Captain on her first evening in Gull Cottage. Although these two strong personalities do not get off to a good start, from the sparks that fly that very first evening they begin to forge a friendship as improbable as it is undeniable. By the time a couple of years have passed, the two have come rely on one another in endless small ways. Both recognize that they share a special bond—albeit one limited by their extraordinary circumstances.

Carolyn's parents, led to believe that their daughter is in love with a real-life man named Captain Gregg, arrive to investigate. Claymore poses as Captain Gregg; Carolyn's mother, hoping to head off an elopement, plans a wedding. The genuine Captain alerts Carolyn to the misguided plans, and the celebration is converted into a renewal of vows for the elder Muirs, who are celebrating their anniversary. It is here our story begins.


	2. Chapter 2: Now, and Forevermore

**"Now, and Forevermore"**

•

As Reverend Farley pronounced the words of his benediction, the Captain moved forward and, invisibly to the others, took his place at Mrs. Muir's side. Turning to smile up at him, she whispered, "A lovely solution, Captain."

"You may now consider your engagement to Claymore permanently broken," the Captain intoned.

"Oh, I do, Captain," Mrs. Muir assured him with a nod, a smile playing on her lips. The captain's eyes moved down to her face.

"I do, Carolyn," he said softly. She hesitated a moment, her smile disappearing as she took in his words, and as the realization dawned that he had just addressed her by her given name for the very first time. Her confusion showed in her eyes as she turned to him. He smiled down at her, affection and sadness mingled in his voice, as he explained, "I just wanted to hear how the words sounded…spoken on an occasion like this." Carolyn Muir did not speak; she turned away, her gaze unfocused.

The silence was broken by the Reverend Farley's voice.

"Daniel," he said, thickly. The Captain's eyes, opened wide in something approaching terror, snapped to the clergyman in disbelief. He stared, unable to look away. The man was looking squarely at him; how could this be?! No man could see him unless he willed it! The Reverend's face was expressionless, a mask. When he spoke again, the voice that emanated from him seemed distant: like a hot, dry wind, yet crackling with vibrancy and light. "Daniel, dost thou seek to declare, in the sight of God, thy love for this woman?" The question overcame the Captain's stunned confusion.

"With all my heart, and with all my soul," he answered gravely, and without hesitation. Still he stared back at his questioner, agitated and bewildered. The Reverend slowly raised his hand as if in blessing, but said nothing. Suddenly the Captain's breath caught, as if he were about to cry out. He took a few small tottering steps backwards, and his hat slipped from his hand. Swaying, he stretched out an unsteady arm to reach for a nearby chair.

Against every instinct of logic and of every experience of the last two years, Carolyn lunged to steady him. There was no time to think. Her movement was involuntary—a simple, protective urge. Even so, even in that moment, she registered a jolting shock as she felt the heavy weight of his elbow in her hands. Shaking, she edged one hand forward over the Captain's arm. Her fingers moved over the fabric of his uniform…felt the roughness of the rows of braid on his sleeve…and came at last to the large hand: clenched, trembling slightly—and warm beneath her touch.

They turned to one another in shock, and Carolyn found herself staring up into those eyes that seemed, like the sea itself, able to change color and mood; they were a pure, light grey, at the moment, and opened far wider than usual. Their right hands remained joined, but Daniel lifted his left, his fingertips gently, disbelievingly brushing the face of the woman he had come to love. Neither could speak.

"We come together also," the strange voice continued, breaking their reverie, "to honor by sacred vows another couple, another love. Carolyn Muir and Daniel Gregg, you have pledged your troth in your loyalty and devotion to one another. This loyalty and devotion, borne and nurtured in faithful silence before the world, have indeed grown into a blessing and benediction for yourselves and for your family. For, believing your own greatest happiness to be out of reach, you have each sought the happiness of the other, and that of your family, valuing these even above your own needs.

"You have persevered in love even in the impossibility of hope.

"Yet it is written: 'What is not possible for men is possible with God,' and again, 'Set me as a seal upon Thy heart; for love is strong as death.' In your silent pledge, through your faith and trust in one another, truly have you brought this blessing upon yourselves.

"Do you now therefore promise to love, honor, and cherish each other in the times of good report, and in the times of evil report, and to continue this devotion,"— here the clergyman paused a long moment, fixing his gaze intently upon the Captain's face as he concluded, "…so long as you both shall live?"

Still that vacant face looked at the couple, who turned to one another (she, with a small dazed smile; he, with solemn tenderness) and answered, as one, "I do."

"In that case,"— and at this their heads turned, and they were startled to realize that they were suddenly hearing once again the familiar cadence and gentle voice of their local cleric—"I now pronounce you man and wife. The Lord bless you, and keep you, and give you peace; now, and forevermore; amen. You may kiss your bride."

Carolyn looked up, as she had done countless times, into that beloved face, and into the eyes which had spoken to her so often and so eloquently, when words had failed. That shared glance was utterly familiar…but the warm breath on her cheek was new, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. On the other side of that shared glance, Daniel Gregg took the face of the woman he knew so well into his hands for the very first time. In all his many years—the decades of his earthly life, and the long span of his existence since—no emotion had ever equaled the intense happiness he felt at that simple contact, that joy which had been denied him for so long. As he leaned down to kiss her as he had only once, in a dream, dared to kiss her, the feeling overwhelmed him, and his eyes rimmed; when their lips touched, they both tasted that salty tear. He drew her into an embrace, burying his shame in her hair. "Forgive me, dear lady," he whispered, "forgive me this weakness…!"

Carolyn drew back from him, her clear green eyes gazing earnestly up at the very real man in whose arms she inexplicably found herself. She spoke softly, but steadily: "I wouldn't have thought I _could_ love you more than I already did a moment ago…but now I do. You're not weak; you're…_human_," she reassured him, a hand on each of his shoulders, "and showing human weakness, my dear Captain, can sometimes require the greatest strength of all." They held that glance a few moments longer, then he drew her close once more.

During all this time, the two of them had been quite oblivious to their surroundings. Now, however, the Captain found himself gazing over Carolyn's head at two small, awestruck faces. "Children!" he cried out, dropping to one knee and spreading wide the span of his arms, "Candy! Lad!—" The children bounded to him, and he enveloped them both in a hug, rocking from side to side. They laughed as he rose to his feet, carrying them both in his arms; holding them tight, he spun in a circle, adding deep peals of laughter to the shrieks of delight from the children. They all bumped to rest against Carolyn, who laughed and beamed. In delight, Candy threw her arms around her mother, who took her daughter into her arms. Jonathan, however, held fast to the Captain, his eyes as wide as his grin.

"I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed happily, "I just _knew_ it!"

The wall of silence broken, the others—Martha, and Carolyn's parents, the faces of all three tear-stained—came over to add their congratulations as well. The Reverend Farley remarked what a lovely idea it had been, this double service for parents and daughter. Carolyn's mother beamed and thanked him for all his help in planning the event—and especially for his patience and understanding given that Daniel's ship had been so delayed in reaching port. _Imagine_, she said: _arriving just in time for one's own wedding! Still—how lucky that he got here in time; that was what mattered, _she remarked to the Reverend, who nodded and agreed.

Daniel and Carolyn listened to this interchange with bemused detachment, and their eyes met in a silent question: _what had the others seen?_ Whatever the explanation, the other adults in the room clearly accepted Daniel's presence among them, and continued to chat happily about having witnessed a renewal of vows and a beautiful wedding, all in one evening. It wasn't until the Muirs embraced their grandchildren, and Carolyn stepped over to join the group, that the Captain felt an arm slipped through his, and looked down to see Martha. "What the others must think, I couldn't say," she said quietly, giving his arm a squeeze, "but I am so grateful that you "introduced yourself" to me before now; at least when I turned around and saw you suddenly there, _I _knew who I was looking at!" The two shared a sly smile.

It was Candy who located Claymore, who had passed out between two rows of seats on the far side of the room. Once they succeeded in rousing him, the Captain offered him a brawny hand up. Claymore's mouth worked silently as he stared at the man before him, but no sound came out. Clearly, like Martha, he recognized the Captain because he already knew him. (From the look of things, it was when he realized the Captain was actually there in the room with them that he had tried to make a run for it.)

"Claymore!" said the Captain reproachfully, "Don't you know your own cousin?!"

"Cuz…cuz…cousin?," Claymore managed.

The Captain stared down at him dubiously, a twinkle in his eye. "You must have hit your head when you lost consciousness, my dear fellow! You've known me your whole life." His voice took on theatrical resonance as he launched into his storytelling mode. "Why, it was only this evening, when I arrived home in Schooner Bay, that I related to you how my papers had been lost at sea. For it is to you, as Town Clerk, that I must turn for help in providing new documents proving that I am the man we both know me to be: Daniel Gregg, forty years of age." He clapped both hands to his chest, splayed his fingers, and lowered his chin as he shot a questioning look at Claymore. A gleam of teeth showed in the Captain's smile as his eyes momentarily widened with mischief.

Claymore tried again to speak. "You…_you?_ _Only just arrived_ in Schooner Bay?"

"Yes! Yes, of course," said Captain Gregg, turning to smile at Carolyn. "Isn't that right, Mrs. M—" Even with everything they had just experienced, the realization swept over him only then. "Isn't that right…_Mrs. Gregg?"_ he asked, his voice soft and deep with emotion. Ever so gently, he traced an arm around her shoulders, feeling her arm beneath his touch. She turned her face up to his wordlessly and nestled onto his shoulder with a contented look, and the two shared a smile, as they had so many times before. "Yes, I've just come home," he said quietly, "I've come home from the sea at last."

- - -—•—- - -

* * *

Following some whispered discussion, Captain and Mrs. Gregg decided to return to Gull Cottage with the others. There would be time enough to set off on a honeymoon trip the following day; for now— it was late, and they wanted nothing so much as to be home in their familiar surroundings.

It was very nearly the children's bedtime when they arrived back at Gull Cottage. Routine took over, and it was not until the time came for good nights that the children were reminded of their new reality. Their mom poked her head around the door, just as she did every night. But tonight, the Captain's smiling face followed hers around the doorjamb, his hand resting on her shoulder. They were used to hearing his stories at bedtime, of course, before getting their good night kisses from their mom, but seeing the two of them enter together, like this—and the idea that now he, too, could ruffle their hair, could hug them good night…well, it was too wonderful for words. The four of them felt this, without needing to say so, and hugged each other tight.

"Mommy," whispered Candy, her eyes wide, when they bent above her bed, "Wasn't the angel _beautiful_? I've never seen anything so beautiful—and I bet you two are the only people _ever_ to have been married by an angel!" Carolyn and Daniel exchanged a look, and Carolyn kissed her daughter's forehead.

"We'll all have our very _own_ beautiful memories of this evening," she whispered in return.

Jonathan was almost asleep, excitement having given way to exhaustion. "But what did the angel _say_ to you, Captain?," he mumbled, "I could still hear him talking to you, when he stopped talking out loud, but I couldn't hear what he _said_." The Captain sat down by Jonathan's side. He looked at the boy's face, at the fluttering eyelids.

"I'll tell you when you're older, lad," he whispered in a low voice, and stroked his dear child's hair as the boy drifted off to sleep.

* * *

For the master and mistress of Gull Cottage, the rest of the evening passed in a strange jumble. Once Martha had retired for the evening, and Carolyn's parents, too, had bid them good night, they found themselves alone for the first time. Still leaning, in his customary way, by the fireplace, his hands interlaced, the Captain contemplated Carolyn, who stood by the door, watching as her mother and father climbed the stairs. She turned, and they regarded one another across the room. It all seemed so natural, so very familiar.

Suddenly a small smile sparked in the Captain's eyes, and spread across his face as he pushed away from the mantelpiece. "I've grown so accustomed to being present in this household in spirit only," he reflected, "that for a moment, I forgot that now—" He stepped forward, both hands extended. They met in the middle of the room, and simply stood: their hands clasped, their eyes locked. At last he lowered his chin to her forehead, embracing her slowly and tenderly. He was so quiet for so long that Carolyn finally looked up, her brow furrowed with an unasked question.

"There are no words for my feelings," he said in reply, "so many things dimly remembered are now again real. My senses restored: this ability to touch, and to be touched— and the sea: I can smell the sea! I can walk again, actually feel the ground beneath my feet"—and, suddenly indignant, he added, "—and not only _can_ I walk; I have to use the blasted doors, and the staircase, to get anywhere!"

This caused Carolyn to laugh, and she leaned away from him to look up at his face with a mixture of merriment and commiseration. With a small, petulant gesture, he explained , "I can't just…decide to be someplace else. So very odd, after all this time."

Carolyn's eyes twinkled as she teased, "Yes—I think you'll have a bit more trouble making an exit after we disagree." She shot him a quick smile.

"Madam," he responded with mock gravity, taking her hand in both of his, "it is a small price to pay." He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips, and his mood again became serious. " 'In this small hand lie the hopes and dreams of my past, and my future,' " he mused, "I could not have dared to hope, when I spoke those words, how very true they would prove to be." In his eyes, she saw longing and love as real as the other sensations he had described. Unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, she looked away—but he reached out and raised her chin to look into her eyes once more. "I told you once, dearest Carolyn: being here—here with you— is the sweetest ecstasy I could ever know," he whispered. His voice trailed off; at the brink of losing control of his emotions for a second time that evening, he hid the fact in a show of temper, and blustered, "Confound it, I care not where I am, so long as I am with you; it's just that—this blasted limitation, of being in only one place at a time: I can't decide _where_ to be."

And so, in the end, they wandered together from spot to spot, gravitating to the places where they were accustomed to being in one another's company. They walked along the lane, nestled together against the chill fog, yet enjoying the bracing night air as they lingered by the lantern atop the gate. They paused to embrace on the front porch... and this time, it felt very real indeed.

At length they found themselves in the attic, their favorite place to talk and reflect. Instead of madeira, they'd brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses up from the kitchen. Daniel settled into his normal corner of the loveseat, but Carolyn sat down next to him, swung her legs up onto the little couch, and leaned back into his arms. A certain amount of surprise showed in his eyes, though he was clearly pleased. "This certainly is a new arrangement," he ventured.

Carolyn's tone and expression were playful, yet serious too. "You're not only going to have to adjust to being _human_ again, Captain…You're also going to have to learn all about being human in the 20th century," she said matter-of-factly. "Better get started." She raised her glass and smiled.

"Good," he said briskly, "I'll start with a simple—decidedly modern—request."

She looked at him, surprised.

"Given the events of the day," he began formally, then, in impish exasperation, _"might_ we aspire to a first-name basis before the evening is out?!" He lowered his chin to give her a questioning look, accompanied by just the shadow of a smile.

Carolyn stared sheepishly back, realizing he was right: she was so accustomed to addressing him as 'Captain' that she had simply continued to do so. Angling her head slightly as she considered him, she thought back to the first time she had entered this house. "I guess we'll _both_ be learning to adjust, my dear… charming… _magnificent _Daniel," she said at last, and leaned against him contentedly. At this he smiled, and they were silent, and they were both newly aware of the slow, steady beating of his heart.

Later, when they came downstairs again, they looked in on the children. Afterwards, Carolyn closed the nursery door as quietly as she could. She turned to find the Captain looking uncertainly across the hall. As his eyes flicked to her face and away again, his hand reached for his ear. Without a word spoken, she understood.

"It's very kind of you to have come to think of it as _my_ room," she said reassuringly, "but as you reminded me the day I arrived here—it was _your_ room first. And from this day forth, there is no more yours or mine, now…only _ours_." She took him by the hand and reached for the door handle.

Once they had crossed the threshold, of course, the room was as familiar and comfortable a place for them to be together as the rest of the house. They walked out onto the balcony and surveyed the sea below. Daniel stood behind Carolyn, one hand on her shoulder, pointing out constellations. When she shivered, he wrapped his arms around her, and so they stood a while longer, their faces to the sea. At last she rubbed her arms. "I'm ready to turn in," she said sleepily.

At the door she turned, and saw he had not followed her. "I'll be down soon," Daniel assured her, drumming his fingers lightly on the railing. When she looked puzzled at his businesslike tone, he gestured up to the roofwalk. "For a hundred years, I've kept watch," he said tersely. "Married life must wait a little longer, dear lady; a captain must secure his ship before going belowdecks."

He cocked his head at Carolyn, expecting an argument, but her tiny smile promised nothing of the sort. _I'd have waited for him forever_, she thought—and tonight, forever had arrived.

- - -—•—- - -

* * *

In that first split-second of her day, when Carolyn only just started to wake, it all flashed before her: the impossible wedding, the charmed evening, and then… _Oh, _goodness_, what a dream!…_ she thought to herself. Smiling at the memory, she started to stretch happily. As she did so, she felt the shifting of a slight weight at her waist…and for the second time in the span of a day, was stunned to reach out and encounter the same large, warm hand. As she turned to marvel at its owner, she wondered if time could ever dull the surprise—or the joy—she felt at that contact, and at that sight. Her touch stirred Daniel Gregg from the first sleep he had known in a century, and he woke to the sight of his imaginings. And they smiled to know that they were both there in that moment and in that place, and loved, and not alone.

- - -—•—- - -


	3. Chapter 3: Epilogue

**Epilogue**

•

In the time that followed, as weeks and months stretched into years, the things that made the family remarkable were the things that make every family remarkable: they were patient with one another; they supported and helped one another. There were inevitable squalls within the household, of course, but, shifting course as necessary, they steered their way clear, and only grew closer for having done so. The townspeople occasionally shook their heads at the changes at Gull Cottage. They thought it very odd that the handsome stranger whom the former Mrs. Muir had met in Philadelphia turned out to be related to the house's original owner—and odder still just how quickly he made himself at home there. At this the family only smiled, for they already knew the truth, which no one else could possibly understand: in all the important ways, they had already been a family for years.

* * *

There came a December when, in an echo of the Christmas dream they had all shared, they once again welcomed a baby into the house. For Daniel this was a joy wholly new, and all-encompassing. As excited as Candy and Jonathan were, the Captain made sure they knew that, in his mind and affections, this was his third child, not his first. His bond with them, as with Carolyn, was deep; for (like Scrooge, in that same Christmas dream) no matter how much time passed, he kept in his heart always the thrill of that gratitude, of having been allowed into their lives—and back into his own.

* * *

Carolyn, her muse at her side, continued to write—prolifically, and successfully. Daniel (who had, after all, spent a lot of time at the local docks, over the past century) had no trouble hiring out on various boats…but found that the nature of seafaring had changed, and that though he still loved the sea, it felt unbearable to be away from home. Over time, he and Carolyn pieced together a plan: they located an alternative college where he was able to demonstrate his extensive knowledge of history and earn a degree. The Captain—for so generations of students continued to call him— became a beloved lecturer there. Students raved about his classes, saying he really brought history to life.

Whenever their schedules would permit, one of the Gregg family's shared joys was sailing out of Schooner Bay. Their yar little sailboat he insisted on christening the _Mrs. Muir_ ("So that the first woman to steal my heart utterly might remain with me always," he declared solemnly; "Your devastating charm is matched only by your impeccable logic," she retorted, smiling). The captain trained his little crew well, and the children grew up as sure-footed and comfortable on the water as they were on land.

The one time in their lives at which nothing could be scheduled—no deadlines, no classes—was Tuesday afternoon, at four o'clock. Occasionally, the vagaries of modern life interrupted…but barring the truly unavoidable, Daniel and Carolyn continued to meet, in the attic, for madeira and conversation. The more hectic their lives became, as the children grew, the more they came to value and cherish it: that peaceful hour, that touchstone of their time together.

* * *

And so, the years turned, and it was again December when Jonathan flew home from college for the first time. He was the last to arrive: Candy, who had never lost her zest for the outdoors and the sea, was an easy drive away, finishing up her degree in marine biology right down the coast—but Jonathan had decided to study in California. His parents missed him beyond words, and drove to the airport together to bring him home. It was a loud, joyous reunion: Martha and Mr. Peevey took a break from enjoying their retirement to drive over for the evening, and even Claymore (whom they had come to consider a family friend, even after a blood test revealed that he and Daniel shared nothing but their name) joined them. They were all still gathered around the table long after dinner, and merely moved the celebration into the living room after that.

It was much later in the evening that Jonathan decided to walk out along the beach, and his father joined him. The night was crisp and cold, the moon large enough for them to make their way in the familiar landscape. They came to a spot in the old sea wall, where they had often sat and talked, "man to man," over the years. Now, Daniel realized, regarding the strong, lithe figure outlined by the moonlight, it was no longer just an expression; their son was grown. Jonathan must have been having similar thoughts, for he took a deep breath, then turned, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

"OK, Dad," he said resolutely, "I'm older."

Seeing his father's bewildered expression, he went on, "I know you think I don't remember—but I do: the night that you and mom got married…the angel dude…I know I heard him. Not the stuff he said out loud, but…part of it was like a voice in my head. I've asked Candy, and not even she could hear him—but I could. I tried to ask you that night, and you said you'd tell me…when I was older." He fidgeted, but stood his ground. Daniel looked down and stroked his beard, then seemed to come to a decision. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Jonathan.

"You're right to ask, lad," he said, "perhaps it is better that you know."

"Your mother and I both heard the voice, of course—when it was speaking to us both, or to us all. But right before he spoke the words, 'so long as you both shall live,' I heard something else as well: I heard words formed in my mind, meant for me alone…

I can only presume that, because of your tender age, you were able to perceive this—just as you were able to see me from the first. In any case, what was given to me to understand is that," he faltered, looking for the right words, "that my return to this existence is tied to that of your mother. If it weren't for her, our lives together could not have been possible. And so…," his voice failed him as he looked at the boy he had helped raise, and who couldn't be any dearer to him were he his own flesh and blood. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked his son in the eye. "Whenever and however your mother's time comes, lad—I'm afraid you're going to lose us both. It isn't given to me to know any more than that, but that much I have known, ever since that night."

Jonathan frowned, then looked away, out over the sea. "But…you could have been with us forever, if everything had stayed the way it was— if you had stayed a ghost. You mean, you had to give up forever, in order to be alive now?…"

Daniel smiled into the night, and stroked his beard again. "No, dear boy," he said at length, "I lost nothing; rather, I was given a great gift. If everything had stayed the way it was, I could have remained with each of you only so long as you still lived; then, I would have been left behind here…or, worse, your mother might have condemned herself to join me in that shadow life. Instead, it was given to me to live out my life—the part that I hadn't yet lived—knowing love and happiness, and doubly conscious of every joy." He looked at the horizon. "And though I can't know when this journey will end, I know that this time, I'll be able leave this existence in hope, no less than that of any other man, that some other, greater happiness awaits us all."

They stood together in silence, the waves the only sound. Jonathan's mind was numb; no words came. At last in a single motion he drew his hands out of his pockets and flung his arms around the only father he had ever known. He tried to let that hug say it all; then they started back to Gull Cottage.

They had almost reached the porch when Jonathan stopped. "I keep thinking about what you said. I thought I'd finally find out what made everything so special, all these years...but the weirdest thing I got out of you is that one day in my future, I'll experience more pain than I can even imagine." He looked down, his face grim. "I sure wish I could change that part. But everything else…" He hesitated, confused. "It's just—I've always thought that everything was special for us because, you know…you've led charmed lives, you and mom. Well, first _you_, obviously, but then all of us, after we came here, and especially after that night. But everything else you've told me…it's _true for every single person_, dad; it's nothing special at all."

The Captain had been looking at the ground as he listened, but at these words his eyes snapped to Jonathan's face. "Bilge!" he said, emphatically. The light from the porch glinted off his greying beard, but his eyes shone as brightly as ever.

"True: every one of us sets out on this same journey, yes…but no two people can ever chart the same course through it! Each voyage is unique, and each and every moment within it—each sunset, each touch of a human hand, each realization and discovery, and each traveler encountered along the way—_these_ are the delights of our passage, Jonathan." He paused to gather his thoughts. "My…previous condition, my past as a spirit, made me more aware of all this, certainly, and for that I am ever grateful. But to live in the moment is a gift given to all; there is no magic to that.

"No, my boy, there are no charmed, perfect lives, but there are in each life endless perfect _moments_. To my mind, that does not make our passage through these waters _less_ special, but _more_. We must each plot our own course: through uncharted waters, and often without stars to steer by…" His chin went down, his eyebrows went up. "But be mindful of the joys in the journey, lad, and you'll find—_it's the journey itself that is the greatest joy_," he finished softly. He held Jonathan's gaze, and a grin of understanding passed between them.

Daniel reached out his hand, paused a heartbeat before bringing it down to ruffle Jonathan's hair—just so he could enjoy the sensation as he had the very first time—and turned towards the lights of home.

Carolyn stood in the open door, smiling at them both.

- - -—•—- - -


End file.
